


Pasagewa

by osunism



Series: Get Us There [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Pegging, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5277416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osunism/pseuds/osunism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadiza is given the reins of complete control for the first time. She has more power than she knows what to do with. Let’s see how she handles it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Pasagewa_ (pah-sah-geh-wah) is a Hausa phrase that basically translates to ‘breaking the balls.’ It’s actually a horseback riding maneuver the Hausa people use that involves vaulting onto the horse bareback and then taking off into a gallop. People who are able to accomplish this maneuver with no damage are usually given a great deal of respect. I got prompted humorously in a Skype chat to write this. Pegging is usually not my bag (I'm vanilla, I know), but we all thought it would be funny is Ms. Cinnamon Roll was given the chance to be the top for once. Sabina belongs to AO3 user imperfectkreis, who basically trolls her 'cousin' Hadiza consistently.

“I want to fuck you.” Hadiza says one evening. They’re laying side-by-side, still panting, sweat-slick and quickly cooling in the open air. Samson laughs, turning his head to look at her.

“You just rode me like you were breaking me to the saddle, princess.” He replies and Hadiza grins, almost preening with smug pride. Indeed she has ridden him, several times this night. It’s been too long since they last had time to simply fuck the hours away and she’s quite satisfied.

“No, I mean…I want to fuck you. The way you fuck me.”

Samson is quiet for a moment, and she turns to look at him.

“Oh? And what makes you think you’re ready to take on that task?” It’s a challenge, and a bit of an affirmation that he’s willing to let her. Hadiza props her head up, scratching at her sweaty scalp thoughtfully.

“Well, how many times have I ridden you until you begged me to let you come?” She asks coyly. Samson reaches over to tickle under her chin, making her giggle.

“Mm, plenty, and I love that you love it, princess. But riding me and  _fucking_  me are two very different experiences.” Hadiza pushes her lips out in an exaggerated pout, and Samson only tugs on them.

“Have you ever fucked a man before, Hadiza?” He asks her and something about the question sends a thrill down her spine from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, which curl in excitement. She shakes her head, biting her lush lower lip. Samson comes closer, and she thinks maybe his desire’s coals have been stirred once more. Instead, he reaches over her for the cup of water by the bedside, taking a long drink. After, he pulls her closer, an instinct as she lays her head on his chest.

“Well, there’s steps to it, but I’ve seen you dance so I think you’ll do alright. Before anythin’, we gotta get you fitted.” Hadiza sits up, blinking.

“Fitted? For what?” She asks, and at Samson’s arch look she swallows. “Oh.  _Oh_. Goodness, I didn’t even think…where do I even  _do_  such a thing?” Samson thinks to himself a moment, combing the archives of a memory that resembles little more than tatters in some places, threadbare in others.

“There was a woman I met in Kirkwall. Never knew her name, though. Wilder than any beast you’d find in the Hinterlands, and a damn good fuck. She was something of an artificer.”

Hadiza’s eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as she waits for him to continue.

“Real pretty too; gorgeous even. Dark hair, eyes like a fuckin’ shark. Could drink a man under a table or two on a good night.”

Hadiza lets out an apprehensive groan and sinks onto the bed. His descriptions are beginning to sound all too familiar.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, “Having second thoughts about the whole thing?”

“No,” Hadiza mumbles, “but I think the name you’re looking for is Sabina.”  
Samson is silent a moment and then suddenly, like a latch clicking into place, he remembers. Hadiza hopes she’s wrong. Of course she isn’t. Of  _course_.

“Yes! That was her name. Sabina. Fuckin’ deft hands and a fun fuck. She blew through Kirkwall once or twice. How do you know her?”

Hadiza rolls over and buries her face in her pillow and lets out a long, frustrated scream. Samson stares at her, eyes wide, waiting for her to stop thumping her feet against the mattress in this sudden flare of anger. He waits for her to roll over but she keeps the pillow on her face, thumps her heels, and then comes up for air.

“…I take it you’ve met her.” Samson sounds somewhere in the midst of being amused and being fearful. Hadiza wants to scream again but decides against it.

“She’s my fucking cousin.” Hadiza spits out and Samson now understands a little why she’s frustrated, “She is the absolute…there are not enough curses in the world to hurl around her name, Samson. Of all the artificers in Thedas,  _ **that’s**_  the one who blew your mind?”

“Never met her like again,” Samson says with a grin before throwing up his arm to block the pillow Hadiza hurls at him.  She sighs, rolling onto her belly.

“Fine,” she says at last, “I take it she makes the equipment I need for this?” At Samson’s nod, she sighs again.

“She’s going to make it awkward,” Hadiza groans, “because now I have to ask her for this thing. Sabina always makes things awkward.”

“Well, you could always ask Dagna…” Samson suggests and lets out a bellow of laughter at Hadiza’s screech of protest. She clambers up to climb onto him and Samson catches her in his arms, laughing still.

“Do you want it to shoot flames up your ass, Samson?” She demands, “Because that’s the kind of shit Dagna would probably add. I’ll get fitted and Sabina will make it.”

Samson adjusts her so that she’s straddling him properly. She can feel the blunt tip of his cock poking her entrance. She shivers and he leans in to kiss her before he whispers something to her that makes her laugh just long enough for him to slip inside and turn that laugh into a groan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter is sent.

The wording of the letter to Sabina is careful, and Hadiza sees it sealed with her personal signet instead of the Inquisition’s, as well as hand-delivered it to the raven that would bear it to Sabina. Ariadne does not inquire as to why Hadiza is seeing to such a mundane matter personally, but shrugs and assumes her half-sister is merely up to something she’d rather not get involved with.

Sabina’s response is, for lack of a better word, amusing. Mostly for Sabina, and Hadiza reads it in her chambers with a growing sense of regret that she should never solicit Sabina for aid ever again.

 _So, you’ve finally decided to walk in the light, dear cousin?_  It reads, and Hadiza can hear Sabina’s laughter in the words. The rest of the letter details what the rogue needs to complete the task, interspersed with no shortage of jokes about Hadiza’s  _first time_. Hadiza’s teeth grating becomes more and more pronounced as she realizes that she must now ask Samson a very pertinent question.

He’s polishing his armor in pensive silence, inspecting it for any needed repairs and Hadiza sighs, trying to find the most tactful way of asking him. She takes a deep breath and exhales quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“What size would you prefer?”

In the wake of those words, the world seems to grind to a halt. Samson blinks slowly, as if to double-check his vision, and turns his gaze on her. Hadiza’s cheeks are aflame with embarrassment.

“What?” And then he grins and Hadiza knows he heard her the first time. She pulls a face and Samson laughs.

“I just like watching you squirm, princess,” he tells her, “make it…well let’s use mine.”

Hadiza’s eyes go wide. “Samson you don’t think that’s a little…thick?”

“You flatter me. But you and I have both been with Cullen at one point.” Hadiza wants to open her mouth to protest but can find no counterpoint to that. Cullen’s sexual prowess is not as keenly honed and varied, but what he lacks in adventure he makes up for in…size and ardor. Hadiza laughs to herself, shaking her head as she dips her quill in ink and begins to pen a missive to Sabina detailing the measurements needed. She is careful not to give her cousin any more ammunition to use in whatever quips will doubtless be included in the reply.

Samson’s footsteps are quiet and Hadiza startles slightly when his arms come around her, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

“If it’s makin’ you this antsy, you don’t have to go through with it, you know.” He tells her, his breath warm and moist against her ear. He’s learned to be gentle in their time together, and he listens, picking up on the cues of his lover’s body language as if he’d written the archaic text himself. Hadiza shakes her head.

“It’s not that I’m antsy…” She says, and she reaches up to lace her fingers with his, still penning her missive, “…I’m a little excited actually. I never get to have you completely at my mercy.”

Samson’s chortle is a rumble at her back.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He retorts, “If I recall isn’t that how I got here in the first place?” Hadiza makes a noise and attempts to elbow him, making him laugh at her futile effort. He presses another kiss to her temple.

“You know what I meant, Raleigh.” She chides him. “I’m always the one in rope.”

“Oh? You don’t like it?” His voice his limned in concern and Hadiza sighs.

“I love it, actually. But sometimes I want to…know what it’s like to be on the other side of the leash.” Samson grins, trying to imagine this woman, who is as pliant and willful as anyone he’s ever been with, bringing him to heel. The more vivid his imaginings, the more appealing it becomes. Hadiza would revel in her power, he thinks.

“I can hear your thoughts.” She mutters crossly and Samson laughs again, watching as she signs her missive with an elegant and flowing hand, steady and true. She sands the ink dry and carefully folds it. Taking the melted wax and pouring it carefully, she stamps her seal and sighs.

“So you want to fuck me…and you want me in rope,” Samson says with a laugh, “Hadiza were you ever this brazen with golden boy?”

“No. He was…” They both understand, sharing a secret smile. Hadiza places the letter in oilskin, preparing to send it off with her personal raven, Nightshade. Samson watches as she does this, studying her. He imagines briefly, her long legs in black stockings, perhaps a elegantly crafted bustier, crosslaced in the back. He bites his lip thinking of a riding crop in her hands, tapping it against her thigh as she commands him.

Oh.  _Oh_. The more he thinks about it, the harder he gets.

Hadiza turns to face him, her brows raised in question. He says nothing, does nothing to denote that the thought of her in such a role turns his knees to water. Ah and her hair, all oil-dark and glossy, carelessly spilling over her shoulders as she rides him.

 _Shit_.

“Breakfast, princess. Let’s get breakfast.” He says at last, trying to catch his breath. She smiles, disrobing, and for a moment he wants to skip breakfast and have  _her_  right there on her desk, organization be damned. Instead, he watches her get dressed, watches her examine herself in the mirror. She places her hands on her belly, squeezes a bit of the flesh there, plays with her hair; up, then down, and settles for up. His favorite part is watching her get into her breeches. She hops three times, then four, tugging them over her rear, breasts bouncing as she sighs, then laces them tightly. She should get bigger breeches, but he loves watching her get into the ones she has for the simple pleasure.

“Okay!” She says cheerily when she’s got her boots on, “To breakfast, then!”

Samson wonders how he’ll reconcile this cheerful and bubbly woman with the darkling creature she’ll become when she’s riding him.

He wonders if he’ll want her to be anything else when she’s through.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s no warning when Sabina arrives, no preamble when she is suddenly in the keep, whistling merrily, bearing an elegantly wrought box embellished with a decorative black ribbon. A few nobles startle at her appearance, whispering behind lace fans. Sabina knows the murmurs well enough by now; she’s heard them often enough wherever she deigns to make her mark. But today is not a day for gossip, today is the day she breaks her cousin in on the hot pleasures of engineering. In truth, she likely should have sent a missive ahead, but she’d finished earlier than expected. Cullen is coming out of the war room as she turns the corner, deliberately running into him.

“Oh!” He cries, “Excuse me, I didn’t—“ He blinks, and Sabina grins, dark eyes sharp enough to cut at his thoughts. A blush rises to his cheeks unbidden and he flounders, faltering, attempting to find words.

“Sabina.” Is all he manages to get out, and Sabina’s answering chuckle sends a tingle into the roots of his hair.

“Oh don’t look like that,” she says, “I’m here for my darling cousin. She’s professed an interest in cocking things up, lately.”

Cullen doesn’t understand—which endears him to her, damn his eyes—and for a moment they are crowding the doorway. Sabina swallows, tries not to let the catch-hems of her thoughts snag on the sharp and sculpted angles of Cullen’s face. Josephine and Leliana stride down the hall, and Hadiza is behind them. Seeing her disreputable cousin, Hadiza makes a face as if to demand why Sabina exists, and happily distracted, Sabina grins, brandishing the box, relishing Hadiza’s blanched expression.

“Happy name-day!” Sabina cries and Hadiza runs toward her, ushering through the main hall toward her chambers. The advisors watch, puzzled, while Cullen rubs the back of his neck with relief.

* * *

In her chambers, Hadiza lets out a frustrated cry.

“Why didn’t you send word you were coming?” She demands as Sabina sets the box on her desk. And almost immediately, the woman begins fiddling with various trinkets, smiling to herself.

“Oh come on,” she laughs, “you didn’t think I’d pass up an opportunity to visit, did you? This is a…” She laughs again, amused, “…very  **special**  time in your life, Hadiza.” Hadiza can’t speak, and instead a sound of frustration leaks out from between her gritted teeth. Sabina seems unaffected, moving to the glass cabinet next to Hadiza’s bookcase. She helps herself to a decanter of brown liquor, not bothering with a snifter. Hadiza watches and regrets not taking Samson’s suggestion in asking Dagna for aid instead. But Sabina is the only one who understands, and Samson—damn him— _vouched_  for her.

“Fine,” Hadiza says at last, “you have delivered the package. Can you just…” She waves her hands, mimicking the blurring powders common to most of Sabina’s arsenal. Sabina laughs, licking her liquor-moistened lips.

“You sure you don’t want a lesson? This is your first time, and you don’t want to screw it up! Or maybe you do want to screw it…ahaha…Maker! Hadiza, Samson, really?” Sabina’s grin is wider and she sets the decanter down, and gestures to the box.

“Go on, have a look. Let me know if it meets your specifications.” Hadiza purses her lips, tugs at the silk ribbon and open’s the box’s lacquered lid. The inside is lined with midnight blue velvet, and set within is an elegantly sculpted phallus. She gingerly reaches for it, runs her fingertips over the smooth material. Sabina has wrought it to her specifications, right down to the vein Hadiza likes that she’s memorized on Samson with hands, lips, and tongue.

“It won’t bite,” Sabina assures her, finally deigning to use a snifter for the brandy, “unless that was something you wanted it to do. Does Samson’s cock have a bite to it? I can’t remember…”

“Sabina!” Hadiza snaps and her cousin makes a gesture of surrender, laughing into the glass. Hadiza inspects the harness. It is made of tough leather for maximum durability, but lined with soft buckskin for comfort. Hadiza holds it up, inspecting the straps, trying to ignore where the phallus is supposed to go.

“This is lovely work, Sabina, truly,” Hadiza says, setting it back down to pick the phallus up. The girth and length are familiar to her, and she marvels that she will wear it soon enough.

“Sabina Trevelyan, as I live and breathe…” Samson’s voice is amused and startles Hadiza into dropping the phallus back into the box. Sabina laughs.

“You must be the lucky winner.” She says, “I hope you two play it safe. Wouldn’t want to—“ She doesn’t finish, watching lightning arc between Hadiza’s fingertips in warning. Sabina downs the rest of the brandy, setting down the snifter before gesturing to the box. Hadiza notices belatedly that there is a design along the shaft. It is small, but it stands out against the blackened material in gold. It is so obvious, now, that she is looking at Sabina’s signature.

Hadiza looks up, meets her cousin’s eyes, and frowns. Sabina merely raises her snifter in a silent toast, smirking.

“Is that it?” Samson asks, and he reaches for it. For some reason, Hadiza’s face is burning with embarrassment, watching his hands grip and learn the dimensions of the device modeled after his own cock. And the embarrassment gives way to something  _else_.

“Let me know how it goes, Diza,” Sabina helps herself to another snifter of brandy, downing it with consummate grace before setting it down and making her way toward the exit. Hadiza watches her go, relieved.

“Having second thoughts?” Samson asks her with a smile when they’re alone again. Hadiza blinks.

“No.” She says quietly, “It looks just like you!” She laughs and Samson grins at her.

“Don’t let this power go to your head, princess. We still have to make sure you can wear it.”

Hadiza’s eyes go wide. “Now?”

Samson says nothing, merely gives her an arch look. Hadiza sighs, biting her lip.

“Do I just…” She gestures to the soft harness and Samson chuckles, reaching for it. With a skill that echoes of too much familiarity, he adjusts it and holds it up to her for her to see. Essentially, the harness is designed to fit like her smallclothes, only tighter. She sees where the phallus should be attached and swallows hard.

“I guess I’d better try it on.” She mutters, retreating behind the changing screen. Samson listens to her fumbling with her clothes, hears a muttered curse, and the sound of her…hopping up and down as she shimmies into the harness. There is a sound of leather sliding against metal as she adjust the straps, and a satisfying  _schnick_  as she figures out how to attach the phallus.

“Okay!” She calls from behind the screen, “I think I got it!” Samson can’t help himself: he grins.

“Alright, then, let’s have a look at you.” He replies. Hadiza shuffles from behind the changing screen, clad in a breast-band, and lower, jouncing at her loins as she moves, is his cock…or rather, a copy of it. It is so at odds with her nature that he wants to laugh, and then she turns in a circle for him and his eyes sweep the expanse of her body. Taken all at once, Hadiza wears the device magnificently, but there is awkwardness to it; a telltale sign that she is unaccustomed to the weight and movement. He beckons to her with one hand, and she comes to him, shuffling and looking down at this new weight between her legs.

“How do I look?” She asks him. Samson runs a fingertip down her chest and torso, tracing the lines the straps bite into her skin, making her squirm.

“Good,” he says, “but you aren’t ready yet.” He chuckles at the slight pout on her face. “I told you, riding me and fucking me are two different things. You’ve got to get used to the weight and feel of it.”

“Teach me.” Hadiza says fiercely. The words shouldn’t make him hard, but they do. She’s said them to him before, with regards to sword play, shield maneuvering, even knowledge of templar-related magic. But this? Ah, Maker fuck it all, the way she says it thrills him from root to tip, and his hands grip her waist, her cock trapped between them.

“Now?” He repeats her inquest back to her. Hadiza’s eyes take on a hard edge, and something in her shifts. She wears the look of one who has just realized the power they wield.

“ _Now_.” She says and Samson kisses her.


	4. Chapter 4

“You ever think about marking your back?” Hadiza asks one afternoon. Samson is limp and boneless on the bed, his eyes closed as Hadiza rubs a fragrant oil into his skin, her thumbs running the length of his spine, working through each knot.

He groans in answer when she reaches that tender crossroads of stress between his shoulderblades.

“Maker...” He mumbles, “you keep doing that and I might consider it...”

Her quiet laughter soothes him further. Hadiza pauses, then rubs the tip of her finger down his spine, from nape to base. Samson shivers, almost involuntarily.

“Shit...!” He hisses, “Where’d you learn to do something like that?”

Hadiza smirks, massaging lower, making Samson grin into the pillow and lift his hips suggestively.

“Oh,” she answers, dipping her fingers between the curves of his ass, teasing oil around the entrance, “around.”

Samson sucks air in a hiss between his teeth, and relaxes.

“Around, huh?” He murmurs, and Hadiza smiles, pressing her thumb against him and making him groan, more anticipatory than relieved.

“Yes.” She whispers and circles the oiled entrance slowly. “Around.”

Samson drops his head and pushes his hips back against her. He feels the initial pressure of one finger sliding in, made easier by the oil. But he wants more, and she knows it.

“What else have you learned?” He asks and he can feel the hard, warm press of her cock on him.

“Would you like to find out?” She asks. Samson resists the urge to nod vigorously.

“Teach me what you know, princess.”

She pinches his ass.

“Inquisitor.” He amends.

Hadiza smiles. “Good man.” Her weight leaves him and she stands. Samson turns over and is once again left breathless at the sight. Hadiza spared no expense, and he sees that everything about the ensemble flatters her height and shape. The leather straps are oiled and polished to a mirror shine, her breasts pushed up high and proud, and between her legs, a well-crafted cock...modeled after his own.

“Before I show you anything,” Hadiza tells him as he comes to her, “you have to show me something.”

Samson blinks. “Anything.”

Hadiza laughs. “Yes, anything. Show me how you pray.”

Samson grins and falls to his knees before her. He starts with the tender benedictions of kisses to her hands, and then moves closer, his hands sliding up her booted legs, eager to touch her skin.

Hadiza watches him, amused and fixated, as Samson nuzzles her cock, and then takes it into his mouth. Her pupils spread as he works, his hands sliding up to cup her rear, pressing her hips forward. He goes slowly, shutting his eyes first, taking her inch by inch, and then pulls back, looking up at her.

The eye contact is enough to make her heart skip a beat.

He pulls away to free his mouth, wet with saliva.

“Shall I continue, Inquisitor?” He asks softly. Hadiza reaches down, cups his face with one hand, and then pushes his head forward, and he takes her cock again, more this time, until his lips nearly touch the base.

She has never seen something like this before, and marvels at the powerful thrill she gets from it, the way Samson hollows his cheeks, the shamelessness of his noisome sucking, the way his nails dig into her flanks for added leverage. All of this serves to heighten her awareness that in this moment, he is hers completely.

She stops him after a moment, and bids him to return to the bed. He does so, obediently, without question. Hadiza watches him closely, marveling at the smooth transition of muscle beneath his pale skin, as the dip in his back as he readies himself for her, and at the response in her loins as she realizes what she is about to do.

Hadiza reaches for the oil, dripping it over her hands. The cock she wears is gleaming with it until she can almost see her reflection in the shaft.

“Ready?” She asks him. Samson smirks.

“Come on.” He tells her and hear’s Hadiza mount the bed behind him, and then mount him. He feels the familiar pressure of her cock against him and shuts his eyes, exhaling slowly. He taught her to do this.

She slips into him with ease, but slowly, and he feels her oils hands grip his hips. Maker! It’s been a while since he’s been fucked...and she’s doing beautifully.

And then she sighs when she’s in him fully, her hips snug against his ass. She drags her nails along his hips, then squeezes, her nails biting. He bites his lip on a sound of approval. She’s going to have to work for it.

Hadiza pulls her hips back, slow and easy, mostly for her own viewing pleasure than his. She draws until she’s nearly out, and then snaps her hips forward. Samson cries out, trying to swallow the sound. He wants to change his mind, doesn’t want her to work for it. She has it, damn her.

“Now,” Hadiza breathes, her voice calmer than he expects, “now that we’re a bit more comfortable...let me ask you that question: you ever considered getting ink here?” She does it again, the fingertip along his spine.

_Fuck_. That feels good. Combined with the realization that she’s inside of him, Samson feels completely at her mercy. Then again, when hasn’t he been?

Hadiza moves like a woman, and he can feel it. That languid push and pull that makes his mouth drop open, makes his balls ache as he begins to crest.

“Answer me.” Hadiza orders sweetly, pulling his hips back to meet hers. Samson groans instead, isn’t able to bite it off in time.

“ _Fuck_...” He hisses. She does it again. Fingers along the ridges of the spine, and his back dips, giving her more.

“That’s not an answer.” She says softly.

And then she fucks him.

Samson has been fucked before. By men. By women. It makes no difference. But being fucked by the woman he loves is different somehow. He wants this, but he is reluctant to let her know just how much. And she knows. She meets him with each stroke, combined with the dragging of her nails against his skin.

Maker’s Blood he’s going to come too fast, going to collapse. And her cock is...it’s warm, it’s hard...it will always be hard.

And then there’s a low hum as it _vibrates_.

Samson lets out a choked gasp which mingles with Hadiza’s surprised and delighted cry. So now it is a battle. Either exhaustion will defeat her, or they’ll both come.

Samson knows he doesn’t have much longer, and so he moves against her, encourages her. Hadiza likes this new feature, likes this power, and her grip is firm as she moves harder, her eyes shutting.

“Mmmm...” Her moan is low in her throat, pleased more with him than the subtle vibration of her own cock. Samson’s hands twist in the sheets, and he reaches down to grip his cock, pumps hard. The combination of her fucking and his stroking is enough. He spends, milky droplets of his seed staining the sheets, dripping onto his hand, which trembles. His arm is tremulous from the strain, and Hadiza slows to a gentle glide. Sweat gleams on her skin, trails down the sinuous length of her spine.

The vibration of her cock brought her to climax already, and she shudders.

“Hadiza,” Samson breathes, “turn it off...”

Hadiza blinks, her thoughts hazy, her vision sparkling.

“I...” She slips out of him, and looks down, “Samson, I can’t. I don’t...I don’t know how.”

Samson frowns, tries to face her, and sways instead.

“What do you mean you don’t know how? How’d you turn it on?” He asks. Hadiza is shivering, biting her lip. Samson watches, wide-eyed with amazement.

“Hadiza...are you about to...”

She cries out, drops to her knees. Samson can’t help it. He laughs.

“It’s not funny!” She shouts and her laughs harder, “Help me get it off!”

Samson tries to get to her, laughing hard as she shivers again.

“Ah shit,” he mutters, feeling at the straps, “you really went for it...hang on...” He fumbles with the straps, breaks into laughter as Hadiza jerks her hips, sending the cock jouncing at her loins.

“Maker!” Samson laughs, “Hadiza hold still!”

“I am! Get it off!”

“Getting off isn’t the problem!”

“Fuck you!”

“Just did, princess.”

“RALEIGH!”

Samson can’t do it. He’s laughing too hard, but the straps are free. Hadiza dances out of them, gasping as if she’s been drowning when it’s finally off. She gingerly pokes at her sex, swollen and overstimulated as it is, and Samson smiles.

“You alright?” He asks, when his laughter is quieter and Hadiza glares at him.

“Oh come on, princess, it was funny.” He reasons. Hadiza frowns harder, and retreats to the bathing room. Samson hears the cool splash of water and her loud swear. Laughing to himself he retrieves the pile of straps and the well-crafted cock, which has finally stopped vibrating.

Later, Hadiza is bathed and sporting a fluffy robe, but her expression is sour. Samson watches her from the bed, smiling to himself.

“Princess.” He says by way of greeting. Hadiza ignores him, grabbing a book on he bedside table and retreating to the small papillon chair by the window. Samson waits a few moments as she reads, and then goes to her.

“Maker’s Blood, Hadiza, I’m sorry...” he starts, “I shouldn’t have laughed. I just thought it...I didn’t think it was that serious.”

Hadiza doesn’t look up from her book, merely turns the page.

“Princess...” He reaches for her hands, settles on placing them on her knees instead.

“Look,” he keeps going, “you did good your first time. In fact, I haven’t come that fast since I was a young lad.” He chuckles and she looks up to meet his gaze, her own sour and incredulous.

“I’m not shitting you, princess.” He tells her, “Felt good being ridden by you.”

“Fucked.” She says harshly.

“What?”

“You were _fucked_ by me,” she says, “not ridden. Remember what you said? Riding you and fucking you are two different things.”

Samson laughs. “So I did.”

Hadiza sighs.

“And that’s not a proper apology.” She says sharply.

Samson blinks.

“You don’t say you’re sorry and then tell someone why you did the thing you’re apologizing for.”

Samson frowns. “Then what in Andraste’s divine cunt did you take me to trial for?”

Hadiza smirks.

“Murder, mayhem, crimes against humanity. And you said your piece on that, _Raleigh_.” He stirs at his name regardless. Her voice wraps it in a spell his templar discipline is weak to.

“But this isn’t a trial. You laughed at me when I needed your help. I was panicked and I didn’t know what was happening.”

Samson nods, smoothing his hands up and down her thighs.

“Well, I think I’ve been bedding you long enough to know that what was happening was you coming. Quite a bit.” He smirks, catching the edge of her hidden smile.

“It was alarming. I’ve never...” Hadiza hesitates, “Not that much, anyway. I need to ask Sabina how to turn that off.”

Samson moves closer. The chair swings a little with their combines weight. He rests his chin on her book, looking up at her.

“Why?” He asks, “Looks like it could be useful in the future.”

Hadiza bites her lip as the possibilities unfurl in her mind, she closes the book on his nose, making him laugh.

“Come to bed,” he tells her, “I’ll make it up to you. I can be very good at apologizing.”

“Raleigh Samson I am not going to let you seduce me.”

“Not seduction, princess,” He says as she lets him lead her to bed, “it’s penance. And if you don’t forgive me after? I’ll do penance in the morning. Afternoon. I’ll pray every hour until the Maker himself comes to stop me.”

Hadiza smirks.

“That’s ambitious of you. I may hold you to that, General.”

“Aye, Inquisitor. I expect you to.”

* * *

 

Sabina doesn't linger too long, citing business outside of Skyhold, but she catches Hadiza's eye at breakfast.

"So," she begins, watching as Hadiza pours herself some wine, "how did it go?"

"Sabina I swear on Andraste's crown..."

"I just need to make sure the customer is satisfied!" Sabina sounds cheery. Hadiza frowns.

"Well." She says, "It was fine. There was...an issue with the...why was it vibrating?"

Sabina grins. "Caught that, did you? Well I thought it would go smoother if you got a little bit of..." Sabina makes a noise, wet, a  _pop_ like...

Hadiza rolls her eyes.

"It was fine. But...how do you...stop it?"

"Stop?"

"Turn it off! The damn thing kept going!"

"You...finish?"

Hadiza runs her hand over her face, but before she can speak, Samson arrives. He looks pleased, his smile sleek and smug, and his appetite, from his plate, prodigious. Sabina chuckles.

"So," she says to Samson, "how was it?"

Samson says nothing at first, opting to stuff is face with jelly-filled pastry.

"Oh I'd say it was pretty good, Trevelyan. You do good work."

Sabina smirks at Hadiza, who rolls her eyes again as they make their way to the table. Sabina watches, notices Hadiza putting more weight on her left leg, trying to mask her limp.

"First time stiffness is common," she says as Hadiza slowly sits down, wincing, "gotta do more squats on the field. Samson's pretty experienced in that department, if rumors are to be believed."

Hadiza chokes on her drink.

Samson laughs.

"Sabina for mercy's sake it was great now can you please go?"

Sabina holds up her hands.

"Alright, alright." She says, "Well, let me know if you need any other fun things to wear..." Sabina looks her cousin over, "Try not to go for too many straps. Makes it hard to piss when you're done."

Hadiza puts her head down and lets out an exasperated noise. When she looks up, Sabina is already gone, but her laughter lingers.

Samson meets her gaze across the table.

"Not one word." Hadiza warns when his grin splits his face.


End file.
